


amicably

by postmortum



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gabriel Ships It, Gabriel is not actually stupid, Idiots in Love, M/M, and not actually mean, heavenly office politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmortum/pseuds/postmortum
Summary: Gabriel is not as stupid as he lets on, and he knows. Of course he knows. And he doubts.Or, Gabriel finds himself tangled up in a not-so-small lie relating to a certain angel and a certain demon, and becomes, perhaps, a little too involved.





	amicably

Gabriel knew, of course. For all his apparent ignorance and lack of tact, that was all it was; apparent. He was an archangel, after all, and he kept a close eye on all proceedings which even slightly pertained to Heavenly affairs. So, yes, he knew. He had known from the Beginning.

An angel and a demon chatting, for all intents and purposes, amicably is a rare sight under any circumstances, but especially so when it happens to take place at the Eastern Wall of Eden. Gabriel had made a point of keeping an especially close eye on Aziraphale since. 

The Arrangement, as they referred to it, had not surprised him. He supposed that it was inevitable that their continued paths on Earth should cross at some point; Earth was a very geographically limited place for beings so temporally vast. He also supposed that it was natural that two entities that had been constantly on the clock for the past three millennia or so should seek to improve efficiency and lessen work. 

That is not to say that it had not troubled him, in several ways. Years of angelic bureaucratic experience told him that it was not right for an Agent of Heaven to be consort with an infernal counterpart, much less to carry out his infernal work for him. It also told him that, should he bring it up in the upcoming report to Head Office, or at any point to anyone at all, there would be paperwork. So much paperwork. Such a prospect was unpleasant enough in itself, but now with added unpleasant consequences to worry about.

Gabriel did not like seeing angels Fall. Yes, there was That. The Doubt. Formally, Gabriel did not doubt, because he knew where that could get you, but off the record, well... 

Gabriel had considered the possibility that it was the will of the Almighty that Aziraphale and the demon should come to an understanding of this nature; God does not play dice with the universe, after all. And even if this was one of those rare occurrences in which She did not have a hand, She must at least know about it, and know that Gabriel knows about it, what with the omniscience and all. Thus, Gabriel reasoned, the fact that it had not been brought up must mean that She is not opposed to it. If She even knew… No. Questions would only lead to walking in endless mental circles, which would eventually morph into a quite literal downward spiral into Hell. 

So Gabriel settled on ‘mysterious ways’ and did not mention it to anyone for three millennia.

Nor did he mention it when he started to suspect that there was more to the whole business than… well, business. Gabriel, having spent very little time around humans, was not familiar with their courting rituals, nor was he very adept at interpreting the complexities of human emotions. Aziraphale, on the other hand, had been immersed in the ways of humanity for so long that he had practically become one, save for some deviations in lifespan and physical functions. This meant that Gabriel would probably never have been any wiser about it all had not Aziraphale practically given himself away during one of Gabriel’s brief, earthly check ins.  
At the mention of the demon’s name, Gabriel had felt a poignant burst off love coming from Aziraphale. It was so brief that Gabriel at first thought he’d only imagined it. But, he soon realized, the brevity made it all the more poignant, did it not? It meant Aziraphale was trying to contain it. It meant guilt. For the rest of the encounter, Gabriel said the name more times than perhaps was strictly necessary, and thought up some really rather roundabout ways of referring to the demon, just for good measure. Just to be sure. And, yes, at every slight mention he felt love practically rolling off Aziraphale. Eventually, Aziraphale started to look quite uncomfortable, and Gabriel thought it best to leave, lest his little experiment be uncovered. 

After that, Gabriel increased his supervision of Aziraphale. He wasn’t quite sure himself why; having kept the Arrangement to himself for so long now, he imagined that any mention of this new development would lead to some uncomfortable unearthings pertaining to himself. Out of curiosity, perhaps. 

Gradually, he came to realize what was going on, and eventually even came to believe that he had a better grasp on the situation than either Aziraphale or the demon had themselves. To his surprise, he felt frustration at this. 6000 years, he thought, and still they haven’t realized. But of course his hands were tied. 

Until after the whole affair with the botched Armageddon, that is. Gabriel was no fool; he realized how Aziraphale and his demon had managed to come out alive from their respective trial. But, being so caught up in his own ancient lie (and, if he was being honest with himself, in the whole general mess that was Aziraphale and Crowley), he had kept his mouth shut, and instructed his colleagues that further investigation was not recommended. 

He himself, though, felt he had one final thing to investigate. 

He went down to Earth. To a small bookshop in Soho, London, to be precise. Inside, an angel and a demon were chatting, as it were, amicably among the bookshelves. Gabriel could feel the love emanating from both of them even from where he was discreetly positioned in a phone box across the street. He wondered how they could possibly be so oblivious when it was so painfully obvious. He doubted you even needed to have the angelic capacity to sense love to realize. But then again, he mused, perhaps the ability to do so made it all the more difficult. Each too caught up in his own to notice the other’s, he thought, and it almost made him smile. 

Love was his business, after all. For all his doubt, he chose to think that he could not possibly be blamed for doing what was, when it came down to it, his primary purpose.

He took a final, determined, look through the window of the bookshop, where its two inhabitants had now settled comfortably on a couch. He left. 

And if a certain angel and a certain demon spent that night, and many nights after it, a little more than amicably in each other’s presence, neither knew precisely how they had gotten there, but both were too pleased to question it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Haven't written anything outside of acadaemia for years now, but I recently got back into Good Omens and itched to get back into writing. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
